


Slow Down

by kenwaylights



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: I wrote Pietro as ace/demi, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, also it was said in an interview that Pietro is "anxious" so I used that, genderless reader, my child, noncompliant with AOU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3933094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenwaylights/pseuds/kenwaylights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“By the fall and the rise of the young and the wise / Playing tag with the moon / Chasing you...”</p><p>I’m not saying loving him is easy, I’m saying it’s worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Down

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song “Slow Down” by LIGHTS. Listen: https://youtu.be/Q27ZGL777pc

He finds you in the garden. You come here a lot to decompress after a rough day. “Hey,” he murmurs as he sits on the old wooden bench beside you.

You’re leaning forward, elbows on your knees, hands dangling in front of you and fingers fidgeting slowly but anxiously.

He knows this posture, and he knows what it means.

“Something wrong?” he asks, leaning forward with you. He knows the answer, but he also knows how to go about solving the problem.

He only receives a nod from you in response.

“You want to talk about it?”

A shake of the head in the negative.

“Okay.” He stands again before kneeling down in front of you, taking your hands in his and watching your eyes even though you’re staring into the distance above his head. “What’s say you and me go watch a cartoon in the rec room? I’ll bring the ice cream if you bring the blankets.” He offers up a hopeful smile.

To his immense relief, you drop your gaze to look at him at last. A small half-smile turns up one side of your mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

His own smile spreads into a dazzling toothy grin as he stands, helping you up along with him. “Meet you there in ten minutes, yeh?”

“Gotcha.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

You’re pacing around his room, wringing your hands mercilessly. You stopped trying to control your panicked, erratic breathing ages ago and now you’re beginning to feel a bit dizzy.

The voice of one of the tower’s AIs alerts you that you no longer have the place all to yourself. And that’s even more than perfectly fine with you.

The anxiety is too damning to go out and potentially collapse in front of everybody, so you just wait, shaking in your shoes like a Chihuahua. He’d be up here soon anyway.

Within three seconds, the door bursts open. He knew you’d be here. You always were.

A wide smile stretches his mouth and he drops his duffel carelessly beside the dresser, opening his arms to embrace you. The hug is tight, comforting and everything you needed after four days without him. You feel a soft kiss atop your head, hear him mumble, “It’s good to be home,” and you smile to yourself as you thread your fingers through the thick hair at the base of his skull.

This is what feels right.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Pietro Maximoff, I _swear to God_.”

“What?”

There’s flour all over his face, hair, clothes and the floor. He’s got a carton of eggs in his hand and he almost dropped them when he heard you.

You’ve got a hand over your mouth to suppress your laughter, which becomes harder the moment he glances around and ‘smiles’ awkwardly.

“You’re a dork. Do you need help?”

“No, you can’t help me make your birthday cake!”

“You didn’t need to do anything for me, y’know.”

“I know, but you knew I was going to anyway.”

“Touché.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s never really been the sexual type. It’s just not his thing. He jokes around about it all the time with the team, but if truth be told, he’s not that interested when it comes down to it.

Today, apparently, is different.

He has your back pressed against the mattress and this is the one and only time he’s ever slow about anything. The first time, he wasn’t, simply because he had no idea what he was doing and they don’t call him ‘Quicksilver’ for nothing. Perhaps Stark teased him about it or he saw something on television that prompted him into this lack of speed, but the cause doesn’t matter to you.

He’s insanely affectionate most of the time, but this is something vastly different, and it’s nice.

You’d never say it to him for fear of sounding silly, but you like the tickle of his scruff against your skin when he kisses your neck like that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s 1 AM a loud racket coming from the training room and your boyfriend is yelling in his native tongue. This isn’t new to you, he’s a frequent victim of nightmares and his anxiety doesn’t help. Everybody else, after the sixth occurrence, started just tuning it out in their own ways, but not you or his sister. You couldn’t let him suffer like that.

Wanda exchanges a glance with you before you open the door. “You ready?” she asks, and you nod in response.

The two of you creep in and see him facing the opposite wall, pounding the shit out of a punching bag and shouting in distress.

“Pietro,” you call. He doesn’t hear you. “Pietro!”

This time, he whips around, ready for a fight. He sees only the two people he loves the most and so his guard drops and you can clearly see the pain etched into his features. He looks like he’s going to cry and he helplessly gestures in a shrug-like manner.

Wanda says something to him that you don’t understand because your lessons with the twins have been very minimal lately. He responds with a whimper in his voice. She clicks her tongue in a motherly fashion, hugging her brother tightly and he looks like he’s clinging to her for dear life. You hang back, unsure what to do, till Wanda releases him and nods at you in his direction. So you go to your loved one, kissing the top of his head as he folds into you like a frightened child.

“I’m right here. We’re right here, Pietro. We’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time he says it, he forgets to say it in English.

“What’s that, hun?” you ask absentmindedly, turning the page of your book.

He had been watching you read in the rocking chair, entirely focused on your book. A smile played his features as he watched. It slipped past his lips before he could catch himself.

“I said, ‘I love you.’”

“You…”

“Mhmm.”

“Aw, shit, you’re gonna make me cry…”

He chuckles at you, shaking his head endearingly as he lies back on the couch.

He’s stupidly smiling at the ceiling when you get up, give him a quick kiss and reply, “You’re a big dork and I love you too.”

 


End file.
